Friday, May 9, 2014

March 2014 exercise: True or False. readgeorgianutts.com

GNG meeting project: Write a paragraph that can be true or false. Try to guess.

Ana'Gia Wright
My mother always told me that it was a bad idea to play in sacred places. The dead don’t like to be disturbed and the living should know their place. I never liked her rules so some nights, when the moon hung high like a spotlight in a blanket of black I’d sneak out of my room. A quick dash through the hidden path where the oaks intertwined to form a witch fingered canopy and across the gravel clearing we used for PE once a week and I’d slither through the nature made gate into Kennedy Memorial Cemetery. The stones here were old and new, proper and prestige, watched over by a not so old man who reminded me of one of those guys from the black and white Twilight Zone movies. But it was here that I felt at home, and so I’d curl up into my little spot next to the azaleas and stare up into flickering lights of Orion’s belt wondering when I’d finally call this place home.

Jeani Brent
Saturday was the day; FurKids cat sanctuary was having a free cat adoption day. This indoor sanctuary truly is a sight to be seen. First, though, I needed to gain access by ringing the doorbell. The door isn’t locked to keep us humans out, but rather to keep the several kitties that are loose in the office from getting out. Once inside, I couldn’t help but peer through the glass windows to the right. Inside are a about ten or so cat trees, cat beds on wall shelves, and literally dozens and dozens of beautiful cats waiting to be adopted. I was directed to another door through which I could gain access to enter the cat rooms. As I walked through the door out of the office and into the true cat area, there are dozens of cats of all shapes, sizes and colors walking all about the hallway. I was directed to seven separate rooms all containing an unbelievable array of beautiful cats. Two hundred and fifty cats in all. I knew I couldn’t take all of them home. After hours of meeting, talking to, and petting more cats than I can remember, I settled on three beautiful girls.

Dap Bates
With a firm pyramid stance, I held up the plate of barbeque brisket that I promised him. Toni's eyes lit like sun light, as he licked his lips and stepped forward. My left eyebrow rose when I unmasked my contempt and flung the plate of food like a javelin into the bushes. My voice rose an octave as I yelled with venom. "Sorry, but good food like that is part of the whole package. We're OVER!

Al Falaq
So I am walking into the QT down the street from my job. It’s about 2:30 in the morning, because I work nights. A lady with hair the same color and condition of old pine straw and maybe half as many teeth as you would expect stops me to ask for some loose change. I wondered for a second saying to her that from where I was standing, any change at all, for her, would probably be a good thing. Then, I thought that would just be mean and kept it to myself. I told her instead I was doing plastic; I never carry cash. She gave me back that same look of tired complacency that passes for disappointment from among folks you see like her and went on about her business. I got my two hot dogs with slaw and fountain served green tea and headed back to work.

Mia Maine
In a small town in the rural plains of the Midwest, there is an urban legend that beckons foolish teens for miles. Like most legends, it involves a curse, witchcraft and enough tangible proof to support the legends survival. One summer night, a dozen teens and I venture into the wild dark to test the validity of the missing thirteenth bridge. Eager, we all piled into the bed of a pick up truck and counted aloud each bridge as we drove over them. All thirteen as the story claimed . We performed a U-turn, retraced our paths and stared at each other in stupefied horror as we only crossed twelve bridges on the return trip. To be certain, we repeated the trip twice with identical results. Convinced that there was magic on the world, we weren't prepared for the horror.

February 2014 exercise: Head to Toe

The GNG create a series of short poems that must stand on their own but can be read together as one. The poems must take you from the top of your head to your feet.



Head to Toe: A Series of Haikus by DAP Tales

Buzzed or long like straw
In chains or a raven’s claw
I vote for my hair

Touch of an angel
So silky and soft
I vote for my hands

Blessed be the curves
Haven and den of pleasure
I vote for my womb

Planted in the past
Walking toward the future
I vote for my feet

Do you see me floor?
Come reach down to me ceiling.
I vote for success.

Head-To-Toe Exercise by Jeani Brent

Ears
Ears my ears
Ever receiving
Rarely hearing

Belly Button
The center of the body
Marked distinctly with a button
Its placement seems an oddity
For our mouth before we’re born

Feet
Our bottom our base
One step at a time
Our journey they trace
The burden they bear
So we may age with grace

Head to Toe by Zakiyyah Zai’mah

Eyes closed inside her head
Perspiration gathering above the fold of her brow
Flowing down chiseled dark cheeks.

Marathon runner, shoulders are strong
Arms moving back and forth for warmth   
Her chest protruding and proud.

Hips slightly wide, buttocks high
With sturdy strong thighs and muscular legs
Quickly moving through the maze.

Knees are wrapped for durability
Calves and ankles aching on the incline
Feet in tri-color Nikes, winning!